Christmas Conversations
by KayValo87
Summary: Lee Fusco's chat with his internet pen-pal brings up some questions about the coming holiday.


**Happy Monday!**

This short story is both art of my Christmas one-shots and a gift for my sometimes beta, dlldarkwolf, for her birthday.

Though I didn't have an official beta, I would like to give special thanks to San Antonio Rose for her help and feedback.

Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable in this story.

Enjoy ...

* * *

Lee sat down at his computer and logged in. It was 4:00 in the afternoon in New York City, so that meant it was 10:00 in Sweden. Here's hoping his online friend was allowed to stay up later on the weekends.

_Hello, Lee_

He grinned as he typed out his own greeting. He still didn't know how he managed to connect with another aspiring hockey player on the other side of the world, but he wasn't complaining. The kid was seriously lacking in all things pop culture and Lee was more than happy to instruct him in the ways of American kids. He had already taught him about movies and video games, but today he had a specific topic in mind.

**What are you doing for Christmas?**

He typed out the question and hit enter, sipping his soda as he waited for a response. For him, Christmas vacation was just starting, but he didn't have a clue how they did things in Sigge's part of the world. The way he described his life, Lee wouldn't be surprised if they were home-schooled in a cabin out in the woods. They seemed to not know anything about city life.

_I am helping my father with his work._

**Even on Christmas?**

_His work is important. He helps people._

**I know what you mean. My dad has the day shift on Christmas, so we are doing our celebration over breakfast. **

_What does your celebration look like?_

**Pretty standard. Presents, stockings, then Dad makes waffles and hot chocolate. We usually watch A Charlie Brown Christmas. How about you?**

_When he is not busy, Father reads one of Charles Dickens' Christmas stories and drinks something expensive._

**That's cool. I didn't know Dickens wrote more than one. What do you do?**

_I keep Father company. _

**Do you have any other friends? I mean I like hanging out with my dad too, but friends are good to have.**

_There is Johan. He is a friend of Father's._

Not exactly what he meant, but Lee knew this kid was isolated. At least they had someone else in their lives. He finished his soda and went back to typing.

**What are you getting your dad for Christmas?**

_I have not purchased anything._

**What did you give him last year?**

_I have never given him a gift for Christmas. Should I?_

Why was that even a question? Lee knew Sigge was isolated, but this was just crazy!

**Of course you should get him something! He's your dad!**

_Why does that make a difference?_

**Because he loves you and takes care of you, and you love him too. Right?**

_I care very deeply for the health and emotional well-being of my father._

**See? That is why you give gifts. It tells them how much you care without needing a lot of words, just a gift tag.**

_I did not consider this before. Thank you for telling me. What should I give him?_

**Well, I'm giving my dad a coffee mug. Does your dad like coffee?**

_Father drinks tea._

**There you go! Give him a teacup and saucer.**

_I believe he will like that. Thank you._

**Anytime. I have to go to hockey practice. In case I don't catch you in the next week, Merry Christmas, Sigge.**

_Merry Christmas, Lee._

Lee logged off and grabbed his gear. It was so crazy that Sigge had never given their dad a Christmas present, but he felt good knowing it was going to be different this year. Maybe the gift would even bring them closer together …

***P*O*I***

Harold went through his mail, frowning at the plain box. It was addressed to the alias he used for the PO box, but he had not ordered anything. So what could it be?

"What do you have there, Finch?" John asked, walking into the library.

"I'm not sure. It came in the mail."

The two men eyed the box warily. A few quick tests showed no sign of metals, explosives, or drugs. With that ruled out, Harold opened the box. Inside, nestled in protective Styrofoam, was a delicate teacup and saucer. Curious, he pulled it out and found a simple note on the bottom of the box.

_Merry Christmas, Father._

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So, what do you think?

Comments, feedback, and suggestions are welcome. Thanks for reading.


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